


Heat

by Maybethings



Series: Grey Warden and Short Taarbas [7]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Caretaking, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, F/M, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linked drabbles switching between Ferelden and Orlais, just before Awakening in the Sword-Bearer timeline. Orlais is receiving their Fereldan sister's letters, but they are put to the flames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 9:31 Dragon Age, Denerim

For as long as the Grey Warden had known Sten, her  _kadan_  had radiated physical heat. It was a pleasure just being near him at camp, the fire before her and his stolid warmth just inches away.

It’s only when he stops—when Natia notices just how cold the arm she’s bandaging really is—that she understands how sick he is becoming: that the heat is retreating into itself, that the flame that carried him through the Blight beside them, beside her, is fading and dying out.

She asks the innkeep for another blanket, because he won’t.

 


	2. 9:31 Dragon Age, Jader

“Another message from Warden Brosca in Ferelden, ser.”

“Another?” The Orlesian Warden-Commander looks up wearily, sighs. “Maker, the woman is persistent. Burn it.”

The messenger, a Senior Warden, chews at his lip. “Ser, if I may speak freely…?”

“Proceed.”

“Is there no assistance we can give our sister? At all? This man she seeks to save fought with us against the Blight.”

“Short of the Joining…You’ve actually been reading these?”

He flushes. “Maybe.”

“This Qunari’s living or dying will change nothing. Flushing out what remains of the Blight—that will endure. Dispose of it, Gerod. It’ll serve well as kindling.”


	3. 9:31 Dragon Age, Denerim

Once, Sten wakes at night to find Natia still there, still writing. Her small lamp burns bright as she pores over yet another message to Orlais, ink-stained fingers mirroring his Taint-touched skin.

Her hair is growing out, twisting and curling at the tips, and fine lines streak outward from the corners of her eyes. She, too, is tired. But they have fought for their lives, for all their lives. And neither will surrender tonight.

When she finally nods off against the papers, he wraps his extra blanket tightly about her shoulders. She wakes up furious, but at least she’s warm.


	4. 9:31 Dragon Age, Jader

Warden Gerod Caron reads Natia's letters when nobody else will.

He has been since the first arrived months ago. He can't stop. The paper is sometimes different sizes or thicknesses, but always the message is the same.

 _For the love of all that you hold dear,_ this one reads, _help me save our brother-in-arms._

She must remain disappointed.

He puts the paper to the flames as ordered, and it curls and blackens as the fire devours yet another one of her pleas for assistance.

Gerod prays to the Maker every night for Natia's companion, and his absolution. Nobody else will.


	5. 9:31 Dragon Age, Denerim

It's the first time Natia's seen him felled by anything that's not darkspawn or dragons. She sits on the edge of the rickety bed, trembling all over, her head in her hands. The air is thick and oppressive, heavier than the Stone.

The words will not come to her, though she needs them now more than ever. She rests one hand on Sten's shoulder, flat planes of bone below her fingers.

Even unconscious, he leans into her touch, the warmth of her palm. A spark flares. Catches. Burns.

And the Hero of Ferelden rises abruptly, quill primed to raise hell.


	6. 9:31 Dragon Age, Jader

It's a masterpiece, full of heat and passion and an ink mixed as dark as charcoal. Her determination sets every word alight, every sentence as bright as a torch against the mind. Gerod's schoolmasters would approve. Bards might weep to see it.

But the Senior Warden still consigns it to the keep's fireplace, because their only official missive to her was sent before this one arrived. It should have reached her--he cringes, calculating--the day after this one was sent.

Gerod prays all night in the chapel, but the dwarf's words continue to burn within his heart like brands of shame.


	7. 9:31 Dragon Age, Denerim

It's a beautiful day outside. Natia doesn't see it.

She burns the letter from the Orlesian Grey Wardens slowly, carefully, watching one corner turn to ash and then another. Her hand quakes slightly as she imagines flames licking at some unseen, shadowy face, burning them with all they deserve for their ingratitude.

 _Sod it,_ she thinks, and savagely tears the thing up before sullenly dropping the fragments into the lamp's flame. They quickly go up in smoke.

Sten knows she has given up when she asks him how Qunari prepare bodies for burial. He's simply surprised it took so long.


	8. 9:31 Dragon Age, Jader

“A week and still no reply,” the Warden-Commander grumbles. "Where are her letters now?”

“I could seek her out,” Gerod says helpfully. Hopefully.

“You will not,” snaps his superior. “Gerod, _you_ must lead your Fereldan brethren.”

“M-me?” he splutters.

“You. Leave for Amaranthine post-haste. I will send word ahead.”

Before departing, Warden-Commander Gerod swipes a pinch of ashes from the keep's fireplace, hanging them round his neck in a leather pouch. He swears to his sister that he will fight like a griffon itself for the land she protected. For such a steadfast champion, he can do no less.


	9. 9:31 Dragon Age, Denerim

Sten grows weaker by the day. Natia stays up at night just to make sure he's breathing. Her writing lamp has gone unlit and mostly forgotten, and the night is colder than it's ever been. She covers her eyes, wanting to cry but finding her heart dry as a baked stone.

He calls her name quietly. Forcing a smile to her lips, she lifts her head.

"You should sleep, _kadan_."

"Bed's crowded enough as it is," she jokes.

"There is room."

Somehow they manage. Natia is warmth and steady heat against Sten's chest, and for once, his sleep is peaceful.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Things Dead, Things Gone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/398882) by [Maybethings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings)




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